


Their Shepherd

by hawkins437



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Biotics, Ex-Hero, F/M, Hero Worship, Marriage, Military, Military Academy, Military Science Fiction, Military Training, Post-Canon, Post-Mass Effect 3, Post-Reaper War, Post-War, Retirement, Spacer (Mass Effect), Spoilers, Women in the Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4439165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkins437/pseuds/hawkins437
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After destroying the Reapers and living to see another day, Shepard takes a steady job training the Alliance recruits. Not all appreciate her vigour, however. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Their Shepherd

**Author's Note:**

> I've spent a lot of time on this as I'm not altogether confident writing Mass Effect universe, so I hope you'll enjoy it. As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

“Not all of us are going to save the galaxy from the Reapers, ma’am.” A serviceman-to-be complains after she has them run the drills for the fourth time.

Slowly, Shepard scrutinises the perpetrator and quietly admires his gall to look her in the eye—most of his peers wouldn’t dare question the saviour of the Galaxy, nonetheless challenge her with a stare like in those old Western vids. Frankly, she finds it refreshing.

“No, you’re not.” she says. “But you should damn well be prepared for it. You need to be prepared for the worst and work with people whose help you’d never expect.”

She remembers Miranda, Jacob and Jack, Kasumi and Thane, Zaeed, Wrex… Criminals, murderers, outlaws, people of dubious allegiances and mercenaries of none, but at their core they were good, and what was more, they answered the call the Council themselves wouldn’t. Shepard knew she owed them and wouldn’t be embarrassed to say so.

The silence tells her that she has the soldiers’ full attention, their anticipation palpable.

She continues: “Best and worst advice I can give you? Don’t make friends, because when it comes to ruthless calculus and a unit gets stranded behind the enemy lines and you need to decide whether to send in a rescue and potentially lose more men or leave them to die, they’re just a number. The loss of a number can’t hurt you. But it won’t do you any favours in the eyes of the people who follow you.”

The collection of their eyes forces her to elaborate. “Do you know the story of Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams?”

The all nod, but few speak.

“She got the Salarian Silver Dagger medal, ma’am.” one of the recruits says.

“And the Turian Nova Cluster, I know.” Shepard adds. “Anything else?”

“She died on Virmire, ma’am.” another pipes up.

“I left her to die.” she admits, grimacing at the harsh truth of it. “Surprised by the honesty? Well, that’s what it was. Because no matter how much you try to justify it, no matter how you rationalise, that’s what it is. There were reasons behind my choice, sure. I chose Kaidan because he was higher ranking, an officer at that. I chose him because he was a biotic and there is precious little human biotics to begin with. I chose him because Ash insisted I save him. I chose him because despite all the protocol I was starting to care for him. I chose him because I knew I couldn’t reach Ash in time—and I ran the math a dozen times. Even so, it doesn’t make her death right. She was a friend, a damn good soldier and still she died saving those Salarians. Sure, she got a couple of medals in memoriam, but those won’t raise her from the dead. A number of people out there will never stop mourning her.”

She pauses, rummaging their eyes for a reaction.

“I guess that most of you expect that there’s a moral to the story, so here goes: you can’t save everyone, but if you don’t give it your best shot, you’re gonna have a hard time justifying it to yourself.”

It’s more than she’s admitted to most people; there aren’t many that would share her guilt. There are still instances when she would remember, regarding the choice as her biggest failure since Torfan. She hasn’t lost a soldier since, not to the Collectors, not to the Reapers.

But the true moral are the words she spins next.

“So do the extra drills, sweat blood for your unit because you never know when running a bit longer, a little bit faster will save someone’s life. Take the first aid courses because you never know when you’ll have to kick the ass of the guy in front of you into shape after he’s taken a gunship missile in his face.”

A round of chuckles follows and instinctually her lips curl into a smirk at the memory of her friend.

In the back row, she spies a raised hand and beckons the person to speak, “You’re not in primary school anymore; if you have questions then ask.”

The girl blushes, probably because of the silliness of what she’s about to inquire, but proceeds nonetheless: “Excuse me, ma’am, but... are you and General Alenko…?”

“We’re formally married, soldier, no need to go tiptoeing around it.” Shepard says.

 _Shepard._ Technically, that is not her name anymore, but to history it was the name forever imprinted onto her deeds and the name she would be known by to following generations.

“Then was it worth it?”

Shepard doesn’t hesitate with her reaction, “Yes.” she says. “But I still wish it wasn’t at the cost of Ashley’s life. Nobody should die for another’s happiness. Anything else?”

“You’re an inspiration to many, but what about you?” another recruit asks. “Who is your biggest inspiration? What made you join the military?”

“I’m a spacer by birth, soldier, ships have been my life since swaddling clothes. Joining the army came natural in the environment I grew up in. Both my parents were with the Alliance. As a leader, I always tried to be like my mum. She always knew her subordinates on the first name basis, knew the names of their spouses, kids… that way every soldier she lost, it was personal. They were family. Don’t tell her I said that, though. She’d find a way to turn it around and tell me I’m exaggerating.”

A few more chuckles follow, and in spite of herself, Shepard lets a small one escape her too.

“Any more questions?” she inquires. “All right. Now get out there and do the extras.”

The atmosphere quickly changes as the smiles stretch into groans.

Shepard immediately retorts, “Just be glad you don’t have Vega or you’d be doing pull-ups for the rest of the session.”

“Didn’t he hold a record or something?” one of the recruits asks.

“He did,” She smirks and tilts her head as she sometimes does when making a point. “Till I beat him.”

***

She is sore when she arrives home late in the evening, but just in time for their weekly movie nights.

“Hey, love, we’re all set.” he calls out from the living room.

A bottle of cold beer awaits her on the coffee table next to an overflowing bowl of popcorn.

She puts on her sleeping sweatpants and a Captain America t-shirt which her mother gave her for her fifteenth birthday. It never fails to amaze her that it still fits her perfectly, as if her body had not changed for decades.

She plonks herself down on the couch next to Kaidan, curling up to him. He spies the weariness in her eyes, in the crease between her brows and the slightly down-sloping corners of her mouth. Aware of his gaze, she tries to cover the fatigue by popping some popcorn in her mouth, chewing at it vigorously till her features are distorted—to no avail.

“The kids giving you a hard time?” he asks.

She feels vaguely old at hearing him refer to the recruits that way, but the truth of the matter is they’re all half her age, most of them in their teens. She supposes that qualifies them for the word, after all.

She takes the opportunity to vent some of her frustration: “They’re trying to use every excuse available to laze about. It takes all my diplomatic skill to convince them that the fat on their asses is not precious.”

“I told you to take the promotion instead.” he chuckles.

“I’ll pass.” she grimaces, shaking her head. “Let someone else work their ass off for the galaxy.”

“That’s your way of saying you’re delegating that type of work to _my_ ass, specifically?”

“Perhaps.” she chuckles.

“Hopefully _your_ ass won’t start to feel lonely for all that.” he teases.

“Not even a chance.”

They laugh along together as they have many times since the Reaper War; share a drink of the Canadian lager Kaidan knows she dislikes, but appreciates the kinship her gesture offers. His biotics flare up and a bunch of popcorn takes to the air, hovering over Shepard’s head till she opens her mouth for them to land in.

She chews on them slowly, humming her appreciation—“Inventive uses of biotic fields never get old.”—before resuming the previous topic, “Honestly, Kaidan, I like it. It keeps me in shape; it’s low on adrenaline and it’s got set working hours. I do my job; I go home, make coffee, relax and enjoy the view—” she looks at him meaningfully, mischief abound in her eyes, and he grins in response. “Besides, if my nagging can save some more lives on the battle front, then it’s all worth it.”

“Always the hero,” he smiles.

She smirks, “You know me, Kaidan; I always pull through.”

She runs her fingers through the greying hair at his temples and pulls him in closer till their lips collide.


End file.
